


Leave Your Tie On

by glinda4thegood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glinda4thegood/pseuds/glinda4thegood





	Leave Your Tie On

_**FIC Supernatural:Leave Your Tie On**_  
Title: **Leave Your Tie On**  
Author: **Glinda**  
Rating: **NC17**  
Pairing: Castiel/Meg  
Post Ep: Caged Heat  
Warnings: Classic sword joke. Sex between consenting supernatural entities.  
Apologies/Thanks: To Randy Newman

  
 _Monster Gitmo,_ Dean had called Crowley's charnel house.

Castiel understood the reference. Hours of time spent in front of motel room television sets had enlarged his own eclectic, mostly trivial, knowledge of popular culture and current events, and created pathways of recognition into Jimmy Novak's memories.

Appearing at the center of it all, Castiel examined a restraint table.

Meg's blood was still wet on the hanging leather straps. Older, darker patches lay beneath the viscous spots. Dean's usually facile tongue had, this time, badly mischaracterized the nature of a terrible thing. There were few human equivalents to the actions Crowley had taken within these walls. The structure had been abode of hellkin; corruption, agony and madness permeated every brick.

An accounting of the compound took less time than a human heartbeat, and could have been accomplished with an instantaneous act of will. Sam's request that he clean up after Crowley had not been made from a sense of human decency, or responsibility. Castiel could still feel the cold pragmatism of Sam's words. "Can't let them go. Can't leave them there."

Reasonable, Castiel knew, and possibly just. There were no human souls left in this place. An instantaneous act of will would send the wretched creatures to oblivion, and he could return to the field of battle. He had taken more devastating action, against human souls, with less consideration in the past.

Castiel stood and looked at Meg's blood.

Most demons had been born human. They understood flesh. Angels rarely wore their vessels for more than the time it took to deliver a message or to level a smiting. Without the willing participation of a human vessel, a self-perpetuating wavelength of conscious light would find occupying a fleshly host posed a nearly insurmountable learning curve. First Jimmy Novak's soul and knowledge had made it possible for Castiel to use his body with facility. After Jimmy's soul had gone, the knowledge still remained. Continued use had fashioned the vessel into a place he felt . . .

 _Anna. Gabriel. Balthazar._ Angels gone native, symptoms of the strange disease that currently ravaged Heaven. Order and tradition, duty and obedience were replaced with chaos, doubt, choice and immersion in physical existence.

 _Much of the time, I'd rather be here._ Heaven no longer felt like home. Was it really necessary to kill so much to prevent killing?

"Hey there, Clarence."

Castiel perceived the shift in existence before he heard her words. Meg leaned against the doorframe, one hand tucked in the waistband of her dark jeans. Her lips twisted with a familiar smirking, salacious interest; her other hand held the weapon she had taken from him -- taken with a kiss.

"Azazel's daughter. Abomination. I believe you hold my sword."

The smirk grew to a throaty laugh. "You are simply too fucking cute to be real. I'd like to hold your sword, Clarence, and not necessarily in my hand."

Castiel made the required act of will. Oblivion claimed the compound's remaining occupants.

"I appreciate your restraint." Meg let the tip of the sword glide down the cleft between her breasts. "Have you wondered what Crowley was doing here?"

"Why he was trying to find purgatory?" Castiel had wondered, briefly. For the first time it occurred to him finding the answer might be more important than the civil war.

"I think we both need to know." Meg wet her lower lip with her tongue. "I'll race you to the answer. First one there," she slipped the tip of the sword between her lips, "gets a major award."

It was a cheap and vainglorious display that should have had no effect, except possibly to activate a swift and thorough smiting. But along the way, during those hours of conversation with Dean, hours of watching televised pornography, the pathway connecting Castiel to Jimmy's penis had been upgraded from overgrown footpath to Interstate highway.

Castiel looked down at his pants. There was no use ignoring the erection, Meg's eyes were fastened on his crotch with avid delight.

"It's an automatic reaction of a human male body to visual stimulation. Nothing more." Castiel took a deep breath and straightened his posture. "You get a pass this time because of your help with Crowley. Give me the sword and we can both leave."

Meg considered the offer. "Tell you what. I'll return the sword the same way I got it, and we'll call it even Steven."

It was a monstrously bad idea. Castiel unclenched his teeth enough to accept. "Do it quickly."

"Mmm. We didn't do it quickly when I groped your pockets."

Meg pulled his head down to meet her mouth with greedy impatience. His fingers closed on the hand holding the sword, forcing it away from their bodies. This time Castiel was ready for the kiss. Liquid heat, smooth tongues, hard teeth and the feeling he was breathing through her lungs, and she his, erased Castiel's intention to participate briefly, then take the sword by force. Dimly he heard the sword clatter to floor.

Meg's hand gripped his ass, pulling their hips together with demon strength. "You ever have a craving for something you know isn't good for you, Clarence? Ever want to eat something you know will give you heartburn or leave unwanted pounds on your thighs?" She ran one hand along the waistband of his trousers. "I want to pig out on you. There's just something so hot about a man who would walk over your body to make an exit."

"I am not a man. You are no longer a woman." Castiel took her lips again. She exhaled little sounds into his mouth, vibrations that traveled like electric shocks through the center of his abdomen.

"Let's get this out of the way, then we never have to think about it again." Meg stepped backwards, stripping off her shredded jacket and shirt. "It will be brief and pathetic and over."

"Step away from the sword." Jimmy's memories supplied the initial steps of the act of intercourse, leaving Castiel unsure of his next action. For Jimmy the act of love had been just that. Concepts of courtship and the deepening bond between man and woman seemed as relevant to the current situation as Jimmy's laboriously acquired intimacy with the workings of his kitchen plumbing. One thing Castiel was sure of: the sword would be clearly out of Meg's reach as long as she was within _his_ reach.

"Whatever you want." She squatted to lower and adjust the restraint table with expertise. "This is probably the cleanest surface in the place. Not," she laughed, standing and touching smudged fingers to her breasts, "that dirt is a problem for me." Her eyes raised upward with an exaggerated expression of righteous thought. "Taking the shine off you with physical dirt won't get me off."

 _Anna. Gabriel. Balthazar._

Castiel let her words blazon themselves into his Big List of Prophetic Warnings.

"You look like you need a hard reboot. Baby steps, Clarence. First the trench coat." Meg held out her hand.

It felt like removing a portion of his armor. Castiel folded the garment into lumpy order and placed it atop the sword. She watched him, a mist of black fog coming and going through her eyes.

"Now the jacket, baby, real slow."

There really wasn't any way to take a jacket off slowly. Castiel puzzled over her instruction as his arms slipped free of Jimmy's second best suit coat. He placed it with the trench coat, then reached to loosen his tie.

"No." Meg stopped his fingers. She pulled his shirt free of his trousers then undid each button deliberately. She slipped the shirt down his shoulders and frowned at the white t-shirt beneath. "You have layers, baby. That has to go, but leave your tie on."

Communion with Jimmy's memories told Castiel that there was probably something humanly humorous about a man removing his t-shirt, socks and shoes, trousers and boxer shorts while retaining his tie. But with the shedding of each piece of apparel Meg's face seemed to lose a corresponding amount of amusement.

"I feel like stuffing dollar bills up the crack of your ass." Meg took hold of the tie and looked him up and down. "That's a pretty suit you're wearing."

"I feel like you should quit talking." Castiel hooked his thumbs in the band of her jeans. He pulled her against him, hiding the length of his body from his own sight. Kissing had become effortless.

"Whoa, big boy." Meg pushed him away, panting. "Let's get you comfortable and me happy. It I let you kiss me like that much longer I'll be leaving a trail like a hellslug."

It took a moment before Jimmy's memories made a tentative connection with her statement. Castiel frowned. "You're still wearing jeans. They should contain . . ."

Meg threw back her head and laughed. "Daddy always said angels were the funniest things in creation. I never knew what he meant."

The restraint table was cold against his back and legs. Not at all comfortable. Castiel found his head on a slight incline, his backside precariously balanced against the table, his legs spread, feet touching the floor on each side. Meg made no move toward the restraints. She looked down at the length of him and smiled as she stripped off her jeans.

Apart from the dark, unruly hair on her head, Meg's body was hairless. Her breasts were small and high, the right breast minutely larger and fuller. She had a tiny waist and barely curved hips. Her appearance, while that of a mature human female, set off warning signals in Jimmy's knowledge base, an echo of personal experience: _too young for you, man_. The warning drifted out of existence when Castiel looked into her eyes.

He couldn't see into her as he had with Dean's hooker, couldn't read the past and present of her existence. It was a relief. An old thing looked back at him from Meg's eyes, an old thing with the most tenuous remembrance of what it had been like to be fully human.

Meg straddled his body. She watched his face as she took firm hold of his erection. "You know this is all about me. Just lay there and think about whatever it takes to keep this thing up."

For the first time Castiel let himself touch her breasts. They were easily covered by his hands. Her nipples poked against his palms, an interesting contrast to the swell of flesh around them. "Thinking will only impede this body's response. Watching you, touching you seems to achieve the result you wish."

"Okay, then." Meg lowered herself onto his body. She stopped the motion to adjust her position and take one foot off the floor so she could angle her knee up next to his hip. "Yes, yes, yes. Clarence, that's nothing but good. And I feel like washing my mouth out for saying so."

She had not been exaggerating about the hellslug thing. Although Jimmy believed slugs were cold and slimy. The part of Meg his penis had been wedged into was warm and liquid, as smooth as her tongue had been against his. She rocked against his body, rubbing slick flesh hard against the place they joined.

"That's right. That's right," Meg crooned, moving to an unheard rhythm. She reached for his tie with one hand, and buried the other between her legs. "Perfect end to a shitty day. Do you mind contributing a few fingers to the effort?" She flicked his nipples with the tail of the tie.

"Oh." The sensation that puckered random bits of his flesh found no echo in Jimmy's memories. Castiel's fingers moved, seemingly without orders from his mind intervening in the process. A growing anticipation and sense of impending catastrophic change in the universe did not prevent some part of him from savoring the feel of his own hand against flesh, both hers and his own.

Meg rocked harder, faster, hauling against the tie until Castiel was forced to take his hand off her breast and pull back against her strength. Something ratcheted tighter and tighter in his groin. Jimmy's memory supplied the image of a wind-up toy, a small mouse that would do back-flips after it had been wound and released.

"Five second warning." Meg dropped the tie and put both hands over her own breasts.

Castiel felt her pelvis arch forward. Her head tipped back, eyes half-closed and fixed on his face. A long shiver ran through her body.

"Fuck, yes."

Nothing in Jimmy's memory had prepared him for the pleasure. After a long minute, Castiel regained enough composure to mentally echo her statement. Small wonder Dean spoke of the activity with nearly religious fervor.

Meg settled on his body, still holding him inside her. "You got off. I saw it before I felt it." Her face changed, shuttered up. She moved quickly off and away, reaching for her clothing.

Castiel got to his pile of clothes, and the sword, before she had her jeans up to her hips. "If I see you again, Abomination, I will kill you."

She watched him dress, at a safe distance, smirk oddly missing from her expression. "Best laid plans, Clarence. It was brief, but hardly pathetic. See you around."

When he looked up from buttoning his shirt, she was gone.

Castiel put on the trench coat and picked up the sword. Civil war waited. The continuing trials of Dean and Sam Winchester waited. Questions of soul and purgatory and change in the changeless waited. He knew he had no choice but to return to Heaven.

These humans, these bodies . . . Castiel wondered if the reason angelic and demonic hosts preferred to use the word _meat_ was not out of an unacknowledged sense of self-preservation. A soul was a powerful possession. Bodies were fragile, common, and disposable.

They were missing something, all the angels, all the demons. Something vast moved across Heaven, Earth and Hell, and they were all missing something.

Before he made the necessary act of will he heard, faint and faraway, one of Jimmy's memories.

 _Who was a famous blues and R &B singer with a smoky contralto?_ Castiel answered the Jeopardy question easily. Etta James.

Earth went away.

  
 _Baby take off your coat . . . real slow  
Baby take off your shoes . . . here, I'll take your shoes  
Baby take off . . . . yes yes yes  
You can leave your hat on . . .  
\- Randy Newman_


End file.
